“Issy, be careful!” Foolishly brave woman. She could have broken her neck.
She ran, and with a sigh, Rowan ran, too. When she reached the boundary of the town, she passed beneath the sign, spun, and looked up. She broke into a laugh as bright as the day, then slapped her hands over her mouth.
On the other side of the sign, Rowan slowed, sauntered toward her. God, he loved her, adored seeing her happyand carefree.
“You did this,” she said without looking at him when he stood beside her.
He looked only at her. “I’ve no idea why you would think that.”
She pointed at the sign stretching from a building on one side of the road to a building on the other. Blank but for a heart in the very middle. And inside the heart, two sets of initials combined: RT + IT. “Rowan Trent and Isabella Trent. Surrounded by a heart. That was not you?”
He shrugged. “Could have been anyone. Many share our initials. But I’ll have to find them and tell them not to vandalize my property again.”
She hugged him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. “You horrid liar.” His heart thrilled at the insult. Felt like it glowed in his chest, lighting him up everywhere.
“I’m not a horrid liar. I’m an excellent tease.” He hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Do you like it? The sign needed redoing, and I was interested to try my hand at painting it. I’m not terribly good at the task, I’m afraid. I’ll let the painter fix it up tomorrow. The heart will have to go, but the letters will be new and legible.”
“It’s perfect. I adore it. How long have you kept this from me? You’ve not been here for a month.”
“That long precisely.”
Her jaw dropped. “A month? A month this sign has been absolutely useless to travelers?”
“The Blue Hestia is not yet open. There was no need for the sign.”
“Except to announce to all who pass that RT loves IT.”
“Precisely.”
“I adore it.” She sighed. “And I adore you.”
Arm in arm, they walked the short distance to their inn. When he ushered her inside, it was bustling, maids and waiters training for the business that would restart in a few days’ time. Rowan led his wife to a small private parlor and sat at a table near the fire, watching her walk around the room, flicking tassels, inspecting paintings, and fussing with curtains and tablecloths.
“Come sit and join me,” he said. “I have one more thing to showyou.”
She sat on his lap and kissed his cheek. “I’m all anticipation. What is it?”
“Come inspect the fireplace. I put in a new one.”
“Oh yes. Like the ones at the Hestia in London? With the goddess to watch over the travelers and welcome them home?”
“Not this one. Look.” He pointed to the column on the right side of the grate. A male figure had been carved there, a sun above his head. “Helios. And there.” He pointed to the left side where a woman’s figure, holding a moon above her head, had been cut in bas-relief. “Selene. The sun and the moon.”
She screwed her mouth to the side, reaching out to touch Selene. “But why have you abandoned poor Hestia?”
“Not entirely abandoned. Just here. Hestia may be home, but the sun and the moon… they are the days and nights, the journey. The home is even more wonderful when you’ve been away for a while, do you not think so, Mrs. Trent?”
“I think, Mr. Trent”—she wound her arms around his neck—“that I am quite glad”—she kissed the tip of his nose—“that you decided not to kill me off.”
“Isabella,” he growled, a sound more wild laugh than feral warning, before he sank his lips onto hers. He kissed her until tittering behind the door broke them apart.
“Disperse!” he roared at the hidden maids.
They squeaked, then scattered.
“You did not have to terrify them,” Isabella said. “Hm. But I suppose you did. It’s not quite a Hestia without rumors running rampant about its owner.”
“Rumors? What have you heard?”
